


Door Once Opened

by Jiwa



Series: Door Once Opened [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Chatting & Messaging, Crack Treated Seriously, Dimension Travel, Epistolary, Fix-It, Gen, Season/Series 01, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiwa/pseuds/Jiwa
Summary: Sasha James is being stalked by a cryptid.It's really not funny, until it is.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & The Distortion, Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Series: Door Once Opened [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038024
Comments: 18
Kudos: 57





	1. Sasha meets a cryptid

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. Basically spent all day writing it. This shouldn't turn out to be massively long, but, well... I'm not exactly known for my short fics.
> 
> If you enjoy this, don't forget to leave a comment.

Human understanding of time and space is truly limited.

There is a world where Sasha James met an avatar of the Spiral. This being was sometimes called Michael, the Distortion, and it met Sasha James in a coffee shop, giving her valuable information about the Corruption. It could be said that nobody truly understood the Distortion’s motives for helping the Archival staff. Maybe it wanted to help them because there was still something left of Michael Shelley, and it had a soft spot for the Assistants. Maybe it simply wanted to see what would happen.

There is a world where Sasha James met Michael, and a series of events unfolded, eventually leading to her death and replacement in the hands of Not-Them. 

There is a world where her absence eventually led to the Apocalypse.

This is not that world.

* * *

Sasha didn’t know what she had expected.

“It’s not funny,” she said to Tim, who was laughing so much he was practically folded in half on the sofa of the break room. “I’m serious.”

Tim wiped a tear from his eye, coughed, and sobered up. “Okay, so tell me again. You first noticed your cryptid stalker when you were leaving your flat, right?”

“Through the warped glass window of my building,” she confirmed. “It… definitely wasn’t a human figure. But when I looked again through the normal glass, it was just a man, standing there on the street, staring up at my building.”

“Well, you said it yourself, it’s warped glass…” Tim trailed off with a shrug.

“I saw it again reflected in a car window.”

“Too many statements and sleep deprivation?”

Sasha crossed her arms. “How do you explain the coffee then?”

“How spooky, someone bought you a coffee just the way you like it.” Tim smirked from behind his cup of tea. “Most likely explanation is that you have a secret admirer. Maybe one of the workers at the coffee shop has a crush on you.”

“I asked the staff, and they said it was a customer,” Sasha said, and couldn’t help a shiver running down her spine as she remembered the glassy stares of the employees she had interrogated. Like they couldn’t quite remember what they had seen. “Several staff members interacted with them this week, and they all gave a slightly different description.”

“What are you talking about?” 

The soft, confused voice grounded her somewhat, bringing her back to the present, and mostly erasing the creeping feeling of unease she had been feeling.

It was Martin. He walked further into the break room and headed straight for the electric kettle, giving her a concerned look.

Tim grinned at him. “Sasha is being stalked by a spooky cryptid.”

Martin laughed, then looked at Sasha's somber face, trailing off quickly. “Oh. For real?” he asked, his face turning pale.

Sasha nodded, running her fingers through her hair. “I keep seeing this… weird, distorted figure when I’m looking at reflective surfaces. And someone has been buying me a coffee at my regular coffee shop every morning when I pop in there on my way to work. The employees are unable to describe the person who buys them for me, they just said that whoever bought them had given them my full name, plus a very accurate description me.”

Martin looked worried, which, to be honest, wasn’t that unusual for him. “Maybe you should all the police?” he asked. “What if it’s an actual, human stalker?”

Tim’s face sobered up at the suggestion, and he lowered his mug of tea on the table next to him. “Shit, Sasha. I’m so sorry I laughed.”

Sasha sighed. “It’s okay, I would have laughed too if I had heard this story last month.”

“Maybe you should… you know, make a statement?” Martin suggested.

They all turned to look in the direction of Jon’s office.

Jon definitely wouldn’t believe her.

“Maybe,” she said, hesitant. “It just wouldn’t be a very interesting statement. If someone off the street came in with a story like this, I would tear the statement to shreds myself, never mind Jon. Nothing has actually… happened, yet.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Martin asked.

“What is that old saying?” Sasha mused out loud. “’Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.’” She sighed and slumped slightly in her seat. “I only saw the figure twice, and the coffee could very well be some secret admirer, like Tim said. A spooky feeling isn’t exactly evidence.”

She had no choice but to wait for another encounter. 

* * *

Surprisingly, things came to head that very evening. After she left the Institute, she walked past her regular coffee shop and saw the lights still on inside. It was unusual to say the least, and she stopped to look through the window. She couldn’t see any employees behind the counter, but there was a single customer sitting at one of the tables. 

Her cryptid stalker waved at her and gestured at the seat across, inviting her to sit.

Sasha found herself opening the unlocked door and walking inside, sitting at the table and looking at the human-like figure of her stalker.

“You’re not human, are you.” She had meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement.

The figure shrugged, a big blurry movement, which caused a stab of pressure behind her eyes, reminiscent of the kind of a headache she would get when she spent too long staring at her laptop screen without taking a break. She blinked slowly, and the figure stopped moving.

Sasha got the impression that the figure before her was sheepish.

“Sorry,” it said, cradling a cup of tea between its slightly too long fingers. “This shape is… difficult to keep together.”

It was apologizing for causing her a minor headache. This wasn’t how she thought this meeting would go. At all.

As Sasha fully registered the words coming out of its mouth, she frowned and took a moment to really look at the being in front of her. She found it difficult to put into words, but ridiculously enough, her first thought was that it kind of reminded her of Martin. Except it was shorter than him, only slightly taller than Jon, with a soft, clean shaven face and wavy shoulder length blonde hair. It wore clothes full of colourful patterns that threatened to bring her headache back every time she tried to focus on them.

And Sasha could swear that every time she blinked, its round face transformed into sharp angles, gone as as fast as they had appeared.

In the end, she got the impression that it only _looked_ short, but in reality was even taller than Martin.

“This shape?” she asked, her tone slightly sharper than she intended.

The cryptid let out a soft sigh that echoed in the empty coffee shop. “We were hoping the coffee would help our case, but now that we think about it, we can see how that could be taken the wrong way.” It tapped its fingernails on the ceramic mug. _Tap-tap-tap._ “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

The longer it spoke, the more Sasha could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It was an involuntary reaction, like her body was telling her to run. She did her best to ignore the feeling.

It did not escape her notice that her question was left unanswered.

“What did you intend?” she asked, and quickly added, “With the coffee.”

 _Tap-tap-tap._ “A peace offering,” it said, not blinking at all. “Coffee is expensive. We thought it might be a good… get to know you present, as it were.”

_Oh._

It was a gift.

“Maybe buy a gift-card or something next time,” she said, before her brain caught up with her mouth. She tensed, and added, “No offense.”

The laughter that came out of its mouth did not help her uneasy feeling at all. The sound seemed seemed to echo in her ears even after it closed its mouth, the lips curling into something resembling a smile. “We’ll take that into consideration.”

Sasha relaxed slightly, and waited for it to keep talking.

It did not.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat.

It still did not speak, just sat there, staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

Something about the way it kept glancing at the table, and then at her, and then back at the table, reminded her of Jon. It crossed her mind that perhaps this… thing was… Socially awkward?

Sasha suddenly felt bad for it, and spoke first. “Why do you want to get to know me in the first place?”

It looked relieved to hear her question, and nodded. “Your… friends, at the Archive. Tim. Martin. The Archivist. They’re all in danger.”

She couldn’t help the shiver going up her spine. “What?”

 _Tap-tap-tap._ “If things continue like this… you’re going to die, Sasha James.”

She whispered the question that had been bubbling underneath the surface ever since she first saw its distorted figure through the warped glass. “What are you?” 

“How would a melody describe itself when asked?” It said, then smiled like it had said something particularly funny. Then, immediately following, it frowned. “That wasn’t very funny.”

Sasha debated leaving, and said so much. “If you’re just going to speak in cheap riddles, I’m leaving.” 

Even as she said it, she knew it was an empty threat.

_You’re going to die, Sasha James._

“Sorry. It doesn’t matter what we are,” it said, sounding irritated, but Sasha could tell the irritation wasn’t directed at her. “If you want to call us something, we suppose…” Its eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and then it nodded. “You can call us Tony.”

The way name was said made her think it definitely wasn’t its name. It didn’t quite fit.

It frowned down at the table, as if considering, before lifting its gaze and adding, “Our pronouns are they/them.”

Sasha blinked in surprise, then flushed, realising that during the whole conversation, she had been calling them ‘it’ in her head. “Oh.”

Still… 

_You’re going to die, Sasha James._

She shivered again.

“Perhaps we weren’t quite clear just now.” They shook their head, leaning forwards over the table, causing Sasha to involuntarily lean back. “We want to help.”

“How?”

The being calling itself Tony smiled, and released their grip on the coffee cup. Their fingers disappeared into their pocket, and soon re-emerged, holding... a smartphone.

Sasha didn’t know what she had expected, but this wasn’t it.


	2. The Distortion joins the chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read this story so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

Sasha took off her scarf and hung up her coat. Tim and Martin were already in the office, sitting by their desks with cups of tea in their hands. As they heard her enter, they both swivelled around in their chairs and gave her varying degrees of looks. Martin looked concerned, and Tim…

Tim grinned mischievously. “Morning, Sash, have any more spooky encounters?” he asked, sipping tea.

“Yes, actually. I, ah.” Sasha cleared her throat. “I gave the spooky cryptid our phone numbers.”

Tim choked on his tea.

Martin fared even worse. He lost his grip on the mug, the amber liquid spilling on top of his desk. Sasha looked at the spilt tea mournfully, wishing she had a cup. Perhaps spiked with vodka.

“That was a joke, right?” Martin asked, staring up at her with wide eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Sasha shook her head. “Something weird is going on, and I don’t think any of it is good.” 

“Why did you give it our numbers?!” Tim croaked, still recovering from inhaling tea.

“They said they wanted to help,” Sasha said, slumping down in her chair. “I couldn’t exactly say no.”

She gave them a short rundown of what happened in the coffee shop.

“And then it just, what, left?” Tim asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

“They said they had to go, but they would send me a message when it was time,” Sasha said. “Whatever that means.”

“Sasha,” Jon’s voice came from his office. He sounded tense.

Sasha closed her eyes.

Tim’s breath hitched in what seemed to be half-horror, half-amusement. “Wait, when you say you gave that thing our numbers, do you mean—”

“Sasha!” Jon called again. 

Sasha opened her eyes to meet Tim’s amused look and Martin’s horrified face. “Yeah,” she said, looking towards Jon’s office. “All of our numbers.”

She stood up and briskly walked towards Jon’s office. Both Tim and Martin stood up so quickly that their chairs nearly fell backwards, and they followed her all the way to the door.

Sasha peered into her boss’s office. “You called?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful, but most likely failing.

Jon was leaning against his desk, his arms crossed, and his face entirely unamused. “Care to explain this?” he asked, offering her his phone.

Sasha had no choice but to step fully inside the lion’s den. She strode forward and took the phone from his hands, and heard Tim and Martin whispering at the doorway. Jon aimed a disapproving frown past her shoulder.

On the screen was a text message conversation.

**Yesterday**

> [8:30 pm] **Unknown number:** hey  
>   
> [9:00 pm] **Unknown number:** it’s very rude to ignore a message, you know  
>   
> [9:02 pm] **Jonathan Sims:** Who is this?  
>   
> [9:03 pm] **Unknown number:** send a pic of the Admiral and you’ll find out, Archivist  
>   
> [9:04 pm] **Jonathan Sims:** What.  
>   
> [9:04 pm] **Unknown number:** pspspspsps  
>   
> [9:10 pm] **Jonathan Sims:** Fine.  
>   
> [9:11 pm] _**Jonathan Sims** sent [admiral_meow.jpg]  
> _  
> [9:11 pm] **Unknown number:** adorable :3c  
>   
> [9:15 pm] **Unknown number:** you should tell your employees not to meet with strange cryptids alone. it’s not really a safe work environment.  
>   
> [9:17 pm] **Jonathan Sims:** What are you talking about? How did you get this number?

**Today**

> [8:00 am] **Unknown number:** ask Sasha   
>   
> [8:02 am] **Jonathan Sims:** Who are you?  
>   
> [8:10 am] **Jonathan Sims:** Hello?

Sasha looked up from the screen.

“I assume this is some sort of a prank?” Jon said, crossing his arms. “And not a very funny one. Look, I know you must be still frustrated that I got promoted over you, but this sort of behaviour is simply—”

“It’s not a prank,” she said, gritting her teeth. 

Jon paused, as if he hadn’t expected her response. “What, then?”

Sasha glanced back and saw Tim and Martin standing at the doorway. Tim raised an eyebrow at her. She turned back to her boss, handing him back his phone.

She took a deep breath.

“I’d like to make a statement.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You would like to make a statement,” he repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

Her phone pinged. At the same time as Jon’s. Behind her, Tim’s and Martin’s phones pinged as well.

She was still holding eye contact with Jon when Tim called out, “Sasha, your cryptid stalker added us to a group chat!”

That got Jon’s attention. He looked down at his phone with a frown, and Sasha took her own out from her pocket.

> _**Unknown number** has added **Tim Stonks** , **Marto** , **Sasha** , and **Jonathan Sims** to a group chat._
> 
> [8:17 am] **unknown number:** sasha, under no circumstances should you to make a statement  
>   
> [8:17 am] **unknown number:** unless you want to be haunted every night for the rest of your life  
>   
> [8:17 am] **Tim Stonks:** hello, spooky cryptid stalker  
>   
> [8:18 am] **Sasha:** tim!!  
>   
> [8:18 am] **Sasha:** i’m sorry for my friend, he only has two brain cells  
>   
> [8:19 am] **unknown number:** haha  
>   
> [8:19 am] **unknown number:** tim stoker is funny  
>   
> [8:19 am] **Tim Stonks:** why, thank you  
>   
> [8:20 am] **unknown number:** that is one of the reasons why he shouldn’t die horribly  
>   
> [8:20 am] **Tim Stonks:** uh….  
>   
> [8:21 am] **Jonathan Sims:** Are you threatening my employees?  
>   
> [8:21 am] **unknown number:** no  
>   
> [8:21 am] **unknown number:** what we’re saying is that unless you get your head out of your ass, your employees will die  
>   
> [8:22 am] **unknown number:** well, except for martin.  
>   
> [8:23 am] **Marto:** uh, what?  
>   
> [8:23 am] **unknown number:** hi martin :) don’t worry about it  
>   
> [8:23 am] **Jonathan Sims:** What is going on.  
>   
> [8:23 am] **unknown number:** maybe we should come over  
>   
> [8:24 am] **Sasha:** are you sure that’s a good idea  
>   
> [8:24 am] **Tim Stonks:** definitely, invite the cryptid /s  
>   
> [8:24 am] **unknown number:** we don’t need an invitation, we’re not a vampire  
>   
> [8:25 am] **Marto:** are vampires real?  
>   
> [8:25 am] **unknown number:** yes  
>   
> [8:26 am] **Tim Stonks:** damn  
>   
> [8:26 am] **Marto:** tim, you owe me £20  
>   
> [8:26 am] **Sasha:** shut up you two  
>   
> [8:26 am] **Sasha:** are you really coming over?  
>   
> [8:30 am] **unknown number:** yes. elias is…. preoccupied.  
>   
> [8:30 am] **Jonathan Sims:** Elias? Elias Bouchard?  
>   
> [8:31 am] **Tim Stonks:** what does double boss have to do with this?  
>   
> [8:31 am] **unknown number:** we’ll be there shortly

“We?” Tim asked out loud.

Sasha turned to look at him. “They seem to refer to themselves with the plural pronoun ‘we’.”

Martin let out a wheezing laugh. His face was pale. “Like the royal we?” 

“I don’t know.”

Jon let out a frustrated sound. “What his this all about, really?”

“Short version? Sasha has been stalked by a cryptid and she had a coffee date with it yesterday and since it asked so nicely, she gave it all of our personal phone numbers,” Tim said glibly.

“You gave our personal phone numbers to a stranger?”

“Not just a stranger, Jon,” Tim pointed out. “A strange cryptid.”

“Look, they said they wanted to help,” Sasha said. “I couldn’t think of anything else.” She turned to look at Jon. “And whatever they are, they are not human. You’ll see for yourself, if they’re really coming over.”

“Uh… guys?” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “What is it, Martin?”

“Was there always a door there?”

They turned around to look where Martin was pointing. There was a yellow door leading through the wall of Jon’s office. A door that definitely hadn’t been there just a moment ago. Its edges were somehow blurry and jagged at the same time, and looking straight at it made Sasha’s eyes hurt, the same way they had when she had tried to look too hard at Tony.

“That’s… new,” Sasha said.

“Did you expect it to come through the front door?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know what I expected, honestly.”

“That’s— That’s—”

Martin glanced worriedly at Jon. “Jon, are you okay?”

Sasha followed his gaze to Jon, and noticed his face had gone pale and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. As she watched, Jon seemed to realise he was still holding his phone, and tried to place it into his jacket pocket. His hands were visibly shaking. 

“…That’s—That’s not possible,” Jon muttered, his eyes glued to the door.

The silence following his statement lasted only for a moment, as they tried to get their heads around Jon’s reaction. In the end, without exchanging a word, the assistants decided this wasn’t the right time to take a jab at him.

“Should we knock?” Tim asked instead.

Sasha snorted. “Do you want to touch it?”

“Well, I’m not volunteering exactly—”

The door opened slowly, revealing too-long fingers gripping the doorway. The being known as Tony folded itself through the opening and stepped into the office. Soon after, the door behind them closed, but not before everyone was able to see a glimpse of what looked like a colourful maze of an hallway behind them.

“Sasha,” Tony said, wiggling its sharp fingers in a macabre attempt at a cheery wave. “Good to see you again.”

In their other hand, they had a cardboard tray full of takeaway mugs. 

There was a short silence, as nobody spoke.

“Did your cryptid stalker bring us coffee?” Tim asked, his tone incredulous.

The said cryptid grinned, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Yes,” they said, and stepped towards Tim, who immediately tensed.

“Tim Stoker,” they said, taking one of the cups from the tray and handing it towards Tim, “Salty caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream.”

“Uh…” Tim looked at Sasha, who raised an eyebrow at him. He must have taken that as a signal not to be rude, because he reached for the coffee. “Thanks?”

The cryptid grinned at him and then turned to Sasha. “Your regular,” they said, handing her a cup. Sasha nodded at them and gave them an only a slightly muted thank you.

They turned their eyes to Martin and Jon, and that was when Sasha realised that the two of them were standing side by side, like they had unconsciously gravitated towards each other. 

Tony took a step towards them, and Sasha couldn’t help but tense up, expecting a negative reaction.

Instead of handing them their drinks separately, Tony just eyed them for a moment, than gripped the empty part of the cardboard tray and handed it towards Martin, keeping a noticeably longer distance away from the two of them.

“Martin K. Blackwood,” they said, their grin turning into something softer, no longer showing any teeth. “Earl Grey.”

Were they trying to be… more approachable? Sasha wasn’t quite sure it was working.

Martin stared at the offered tray, and for a moment, Sasha was sure he wouldn’t take it.

Until he did. 

“Um... thank you?” Martin stuttered out, looking down at the tray. He glanced at Jon, who was standing next to him, his back ramrod straight, not breaking eye contact with the cryptid. 

“There’s two cups…” Martin trailed off quietly. “The second one just says ‘The Archivist’?” He looked up at the cryptid with a furrowed brow.

Tony’s gaze glided past Martin, and Sasha could have sworn their eyes flashed as they said the next words.

“Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.”

Jon startled noticeable at the sound of his own name. “I—” he started to say, then swallowed. “What are you?”

Sasha hadn’t paid too much attention to it last time, but she couldn’t help but notice that her new cryptid friend had quite expressive eyebrows. At Jon’s words, the outer corners of the eyebrows turned down and their expression could only be described as ‘pitying’.

It wasn’t until they moved that Sasha realised they looked taller than last time, and words they had spoken last time drifted to the forefront of her mind. _‘This shape is… difficult to keep together.’_

They bent their knees until they were more on level with Jon’s eyes, their long fingers resting on their knees. “The better question is… what are you, little Archivist?” they asked. “How many statements have you read?”

A horrible feeling started brewing at the bottom of Sasha’s stomach.

“I—” Jon started, now more confused than scared. “Statements?”

Tony looked away from him, and straight at Sasha. “Elias didn’t pass you over because of sexism,” they said. “He passed you over because he knew you would be far more capable at this job, and he couldn’t have that. He made that mistake with his last Archivist.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” Tim asked.

Tony stood up from their hunched up position and stretched their neck in an uncomfortable fashion, all the while looking at Sasha. “It’s unfortunate we were late,” Tony said. “If we had been able to make contact before you signed those contracts…”

Sasha could put two and two together well enough. “We can’t quit, can we.”

Tony nodded. “Not without some… significant damage to yourselves.”

Tim let out a laugh. “What, like gauging our eyes out with a spoon?”

Tony whirled their head to look at him, and Sasha got the impression they were surprised.

Tim must have gotten that impression too, because he sobered up. “No way.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Perhaps this wasn’t the best way to tell you,” they said, but continued speaking anyway. “The Magnus Institute serves an entity known as the Beholding, or the Eye. It feeds on fear. The fear of being watched, of being known. It feeds on information.” Their gaze glided back to Jon. “And on statements.”

Sasha sighed and took a sip of her coffee. She really wished she had that vodka, now.

“And because we work here…” she trailed off.

“You’re all servants of the Beholding, whether you want it or not.”

“So, what, we’re all canon fodder for some kind of fear demon?” Tim asked incredulously. 

“This- You—” Jon started, “This can’t be real—”

Tony turned to look at him, seemingly hesitating before speaking in a quiet voice that echoed in the small office.

“A guest for Mr. Spider,” they said, and watched with hooded eyes as Jon took a startled step back, his back hitting his desk, and his hand covering is mouth as if to stop a scream from escaping. “Your faked skepticism won’t be of any help from now on, little Archivist.”

“Jon…” Martin whispered, hugging his hand to himself as if to stop himself from reaching over.

It took Jon a moment to be able to speak again, his jaw tensing visibly as he tried to find the words. “How do you— how did you know that?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” Tony said, and grinned. It wasn’t a nice grin. “We are not part of the Eye, but we know things. Enough to help, perhaps, if things go well.”

Something had been bothering Sasha ever since the being had offered to help.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you want to help us?”

Tony looked at her. “Because…” their gaze moved around the room, glancing at each of their faces. “We like you.” They grinned again, showing too many teeth. “And because we want to see Elias squirm when he realizes his plans have gone to shit.”


End file.
